


Schiz

by theycallherluckyo



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Baby Harry, Happy Ending, M/M, Nick Grimshaw as an imaginary friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1433539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theycallherluckyo/pseuds/theycallherluckyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU from Anne’s perspective where Harry grows up and is a bit mental and has an imaginary friend called Nick Grimshaw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Schiz

It starts off seemingly normal - adorable, actually - when your tiny toddler with his silly mop of curls crawls on top of your lap as you eat your breakfast one morning, and announces he’s made a friend.  
  
You don’t quite understand at first, because Harry hasn’t started nursery school yet, and there aren’t any children his age in the street you live in.  
  
"How, my darling," you ask, stoking his soft cheek with the pad of your thumb, as you eat a spoonful of cereal with the other hand, "and who?" you add.  
  
"No, mummy, I’ve  _made_  a friend,” he informs you, looking proud of himself. “His name is Nick Grimshaw and he’s sitting next to you, look.” Harry points to the empty kitchen stall next to you.  
  
 _Oh_ , you think to yourself,  _he’s imaginary_. “That’s lovely, sweetheart,” you say, stroking his curls, humouring him. “Hello, Nick Grimshaw. Lovely to meet you.” You put down your spoon and hold your hand out, pretending to shake hands with Nick. Harry grins up at you from your lap and snuggles close to your chest. You wrap your arms round him, squeezing him before going back to your breakfast. Harry dozes off on your lap.

***

"You need a haircut," you tell Harry, ruffling his knotty curls as you walk round Waitrose one Wednesday afternoon. "We’ll go to the barbers on Friday, sort out your messy locks," you joke. Harry pouts at you from where he’s sat in the trolly. He’s never liked getting his hair cut. You lean down and kiss him on the forehead, before reaching to get a couple of avocados from the shelf.  
  
"Mummy," he says; you can tell he’s about to ask you something, "Can Nick Grimshaw come to the Barbaras?"  
  
"Barbers, darling," you correct, "and yes, he can come." You give him a smile, internally cooing at the adorableness of your son wanting to take his imaginary friend everywhere.  
  
Harry beams, and makes grabby hands for you. You bend down a little and he holds your jaw in his little hands, pulling you close to press a loud kiss on your cheek. You chuckle, and kiss his forehead. There’s an elderly woman smiling at you both, so you smile back at her. Harry turns to see what you’re looking at and waves shyly at the woman. She gives him a grin, and you go on your way.

***

You’re tidying the house, vacuum cleaning the landing. Once you turn the noisy Hoover off you can hear chattering coming from Harry’s room. You peak round the closed door to see who’s he is talking to.

"Yes Nick Grimshaw, you must always colour inside the lines or your picture will be messy.  
  
No don’t colour trees in pink, trees are green, Nick.  
  
Maybe trees are pink on the moon but we’re not colouring the moon, Nick.  
  
Okay fine, we can make it the moon but only if you draw an aly- aly- alien.”  
  
You chuckle to yourself, watching the lad quietly for a few moments.  
  
"You’ll always be my best friend, Nick Grimshaw. Even if you do colour grass orange."

***

When Harry turned 10 you expected requests of taking Nick everywhere to stop. Instead, they increased. Your son didn’t seem to have many friends at school; only one you’d met. A nice boy called Liam, who you were sure was only friends with Harry out of pity.

  
"What would you like to do for your birthday, poppet?" You smile up at Harry from the other side of the dinner table, waiting for the 10 year old to finish his mouthful of spaghetti bolognese before he answers.  
  
"Nick Grimshaw says we should go to laster quest. Can Nick and I go to laser quest, Mum?" He spills a little sauce on his white school shirt, excited about his birthday party.  
  
"Laser quest sounds good," you agree, grinning as you twirl pasta round your fork. "Don’t you want to invite some more friends; what about Liam?"  
  
"Liam and Nick, please," he replies instantly. He looks to his left and smiles as the air, holding up a forkful of bolognese to thin air. "Want some, Nick?" He asks his imaginary friend, pausing for a moment. "All the more for me then," he chuckles, and eats it himself. You frown, but don’t let him see you looking disappointed.

***

"Mummy, Nick says I can’t wear my new t-shirt to laser quest. Now I don’t know what to wear," Harry whines as he greats you - in just a pair of jeans - in the kitchen 15 minutes before you need to leave for his party.  
  
"What’s wrong with it, sweetheart?" You frown, knowing you’re running out of time for this.  
  
"He says its too brown," he replies, curls bobbing. "What should I wear?"  
  
"I think you should ignore Nick and wear your new t-shirt. It’s got a monkey on it, it’s really cool!" Hoping your persuasion works, you tap him lightly on the bottom to get him to move back upstairs to get changed.  
  
"But Nick says-"  
  
"Do you do everything Nick Grimshaw says? If he told you to jump off a bridge would you do that?" You interrupt him, getting a little shirty now.  
  
"Why would Nick tell me to jump off a bridge?" He replies, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.  
  
"Just put your new top on, we’re going to be late!"

***

At 13, you hoped Harry’s interest in girls would override his interest in Nick Grimshaw. You were wrong.  
  
"Mum, Nick and I are going out," he calls, just before he opens the front door.  
  
You pop your head round the living room door from where you were ironing before he goes, “Where’re you off to?”  
  
"Out," he replies shortly. He’s about to slam the door behind him when he stops, turns round to face you and smiles sweetly. "Can Nick and I borrow a tenner?" He asks, eyes sparkling.  
  
Before you give him the money you question Harry. “Who are you going with?”  
  
"Nick and Caroline,"  
  
"Who’s Caroline?"  
  
"Just a girl from my year," he tries to explain vaguely.  
  
You try not to smirk as you hand him the money, but it proves difficult.

***

That night you hear noises from Harry’s room. You’re worried so quietly sneak towards his door, listening in.

"I know you don’t like her, but I do. I want to ask her out," Harry is angrily whispering, "I don’t care if she looked at you funny, Nick, I like Caroline!  
  
That’s not fair!  
  
Erg, fine. Fine, I won’t ask her out. Fine, you fucking win, Grimshaw!”  
  
You hear him angrily get into bed before it goes quiet. You’re about to leave when you hear him whisper, “I know it’s because you love me. I love you too, Nick.”

***

You know Nick Grimshaw isn't just Harry’s imaginary friend anymore. Perhaps he never was just an imaginary friend. You know he’s a voice - or a vision - inside Harry’s head that Harry doesn't consciously control. You also know Harry would do anything the little voice he calls Nick Grimshaw told him to do.  
  
So you’re not surprised when, two Sundays before Harry’s 17th birthday, you’re frantically looking all round town for your boy. You get a call from your husband, telling you the police have found him, found him standing at the edge of a bridge, ready to jump.  
  
You drive recklessly, not caring about the other people on the road. Not when your baby, your boy, with his silly mop of curls and baby fat and bright green sparkling eyes, not when Harry is about to commit suicide.  
  
You’re not surprised, when you arrive and sprint towards your son, pushing past the police officers that try to stop you, screaming that he’s your boy. You’re not surprised when you get to Harry, and he sees you and whispers, “Nick is telling me to jump. I don’t want to, Mum, but Nick..”  
  
You’re not surprised its Nick Grimshaw’s doing.  
  
"Come here darling, Nick can’t make you do anything you don’t want to, just come back," you persuade him. You  _are_  surprised that its that simple, and Harry is soon sobbing in your arms.  
  
You can’t help think however, that it was effectively your constant nagging that told the voice in Harry’s head to tell Harry to jump off that bridge.  
  
You don’t stop crying for three days.

***

You know that it’s going to take a lot of therapy sessions and far too many drugs than you’re comfortable with for Harry to forget about Nick Grimshaw. It will take a lot of time and a lot of effort. You start hoping for a miracle.

***

Applying for university comes round far sooner that you’d hoped. You remember the days when Harry came up to your knee and would curl up in your lap like a little cat so you’d play with his hair. You miss those days.  
  
But you’re proud of your lad.  
  
He’s been working very hard to forget about Nick Grimshaw. He’s been taking the drugs and going to the therapy sessions. But Nick was Harry’s (only) friend. You know it’s not easy for him to just forget about the voice in his head. But he’s doing well.  
  
He gets an interview for Manchester University. You’re over the moon for him, smothering him in affection. At first he swats you away, but then he allows a hug and a kiss or two.  
  
He tells you, the morning of his interview, that he’s going to leave Nick Grimshaw at home today, just in-case. You smile and tell him you’re proud of him.  
  
He gets in.

***

You miss him terribly. It’s his third year at uni, you think you should be used to it by now. But you hate not having to make him dinner and do his laundry every day. You miss not having to count out his meds and give him them with some water in his favourite blue mug every morning, though you hate to admit it.  
  
But the truth is, Harry doesn’t need them any more. He’s made friends that he’s told you about called Louis and Niall and Zayn at uni and he never talks about Nick Grimshaw to you on the phone. And when he comes home he never talks to himself as though he were speaking to Nick. Nick’s gone, and you’re so relieved.  
  
But two weeks before Christmas he rings you up and asks, “Can I bring my friend Nick home for a couple of days in the holidays?”  
  
"Nick who, darling?" You ask tentatively.  
  
"Nick Grimshaw, Mum," he replies.  
  
Your face drops and you’re glad he can’t see that. “Um, y-yes sweetheart, I suppose so.” It’s easier not to argue.  
  
You cry yourself to sleep that night.

***

Three days before Christmas, when you have the whole family round, Harry knocks on the front door. You run to open it, having missed your baby. He grins when he sees you, dimples on show. You squeeze him tight, right there in the doorway.  
  
But.  
  
There’s a tall man with a curly sort of quiff in a Dr Dre t-shirt and a big duffle coat walking towards your door you see over Harry’s shoulder. He’s got a nervous, but cheeky grin on his face and he’s holding Harry’s suitcase.  
  
"Who’s this, sweetheart?" You ask Harry, eyeing the other man up. He looks older than your son, he’s handsome, you think.  
  
"Nick, Mum," he says, like you’re being silly, "Nick Grimshaw. I told you I’d bring him."  
  
You’re a bit gobsmacked. “I thought you meant… Oh, sweetheart!” you’re shocked and surprised but you’re not going to question it. “Nick, welcome! Come in, come out of the cold!” You usher the other lad in, pushing him and Harry out of the doorway so you can shut it.  
  
"Wow. Well, hello!"

***

Christmas Eve and everyone has gone to bed except you and Nick. You pour him another glass of wine and he thanks you. You sit opposite him, wanting to ask him something. “Did he tell you?”

"Tell me what..?" He asks, looking up from his glass, "Oh, that he used to have an ‘imaginary friend’ called Nick Grimshaw? Yes." He chuckles, before sipping.  
  
You smile back. “Did he tell you it almost made him jump off a bridge?”  
  
"Yes," he mumbles, and looks down. He looks upset at the thought. "When he told me, I promised him I’d never let him get hurt,"  
  
You really like Nick Grimshaw after that.

***

Christmas day Harry helps you with the washing up. You’re in the kitchen, just you and him. He keeps looking at you like he wants to tell you something, but he’s not sure how to bring it up.  
  
"Spit it out, Hazzy," you tell him, grinning.  
  
"Nick’s my boyfriend," he blurts.  
  
"Oh, darling," you say, "I know.


End file.
